
Pro Poeth 



KND OTHER POEMS, 



PRO POETA 

AND OTHER POEMS WITH FIRST BOOK 

tJF 

The New Columbiad, 

BY 

WILLIAM SHERAN. 



Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey, 
If Time have any wrinkle graven there ; , 
If any, be a satire to decay. 
And make Time's spoils despised everywhere. 

— SHAKESPEARE. 



3iV27 V 



/ 



ST. PAUL, MINN., 

Payne, Vose & Co., Printers, 

1891. 






^1 Copyright, 1890, 

I By WILLIHM SHERflN. 





PAGE. 

Entrance to Hell 50 

Gold 45 

Hope 56 

Illusions ' 49 

Ode to Morning 39 

Only a Star 48 

Prayer 49 

Pro Poeta 5 

The Materialist ,..' 54 

The Midnight Hour 53 

The New Columbiad 57 

The Pagan Hell 41 

The Past 47 

To-MoRROw 40 

Via Recta 46 

What Was 40 



PRO POETA. 



I. 



A willing tribute may we prize 
To him who pours his soul in song, 
Who looks with fancy's sleepless eyes 

On worlds where greater glories throng ; 

Whose heart with passion strong inwrought, 
Throbs with the pulse of human life, 

Now fierce, as swells the fevered thought 
And calm, when dies all hate and strife: 

He lauds the record of the brave 

And true and good : he wars on wrong, 

And how the virtues lift and save 
Is made the burden of his song. 

If swallow-like these variant lays 
But skim the ocean of his deeds — 

Enough, they try to speak his praise, 
For larger harvest sowing seeds. 



PRO POETA. 



II. 



How oft thy soul is borne along, 

And made to feel a heavenly thrill 

While sunk in depths of some sweet song, 
A captive to the poet's will. 

It leaves our little earth behind, 

Those narrow views so sadly real, 

So common to our human kind. 
And enters on a world ideal. 

m 

There, nature blooms — all lovliness : 
There harmonies forever blend : 

There, man, devoid of selfishness, 
Moves forward to a joyous end. 

And, lingering in that higher sphere. 

Creation of a poet's pen, 
Tin' soul finds not the grossness here, 

Nor crime that stains the lives of men. 



PRO POETA. 



III. 

The bleak winds sigh thro' leafless trees 
And pile the blinding snow in heaps 

And shake the window pane and sieze 
With icy hand the noisy deeps. 

Within, beside the glowing fire 

I trim the mid-night lamp, nor feel 

The rolling hours, my sole desire 
From poesy her sweets to steal. 

No traveler wandering o'er the moor, 
Or waif on marble steps unsought, 

Or storm that forests scarce endure 

Can win from me a passing thought. 

Until the thrilling numbers turn 

On some poor wretch who strayed and froze 
One winter's night, whom wealth would spurn, 

'Should fate palatial homes disclose. 



PRO POETA 



IV. 



A bloom is on the earth, the stream 
Sweeps gaily on to swell the sea, 

And nature from her winter dream 

Gives thousand proofs that she is free. 

Aroused, she puts in shrub and flower 

A portion of her energy, 
And by kind heat and ready shower 

Decks field and garden, wild and lea. 

No longer by the fire-side 

Sits horny-handed labor mute; 

The kine break into meads denied. 

And slumbering seeds find life and root. 



Awake, O poet, now hath come 

The hour to pour thy soul in song — 

Woodland and meadow are in bloom 
Arouse, and move with life along. 



PRO POETA. 



V. 



At play upon the azure space, 

Their shadows trailing o'er the lea, 

The thin, white cloudlets float apace 
Like ships upon the dark blue sea. 

The hills and valleys far below 

Re-echo to the reaper's song, 
And woods are still and waters low: 

The brook in silence steals along. 

Embowered in a shady nook 

Round which the woodland glooms, 1 lie 
And, turning from an open book, 

I lift to heaven a wearied eye. 

And marvel how poetic skill 

Can reach the fibres of the heart 

And stir the depths of love and fill 
The soul as if by magic art. 



10 PRO POET A. 



VI. 



'Tis autumn ! woods are russet clad : 
A haze hangs over field and vale : 

The smile of summer sweet and glad 

Is gone: the drowsy stream looks pale 

As if he dreaded winter's wand 

Would change him soon to icy coil. 

Hard by the plow in rustic hand 
Turns up again the hopeful soil. 

Oh fading year, in dim old age 

What thoughts thou callest to the mind 
Of happier days, that brighter page 

Where ^outh has left its trace behind ! 

When passing from the eyes of men. 
Whose lasting honor will it be 

To linger by thy couch, and pen 

Immortal lines concernins' thee? 



PRO POETA. 11 



YII. 

Has our age heroes? men who leave 
Their impress on our life and state ? 

Who in the strength of nets believe 

And fight and win and laugh at fate ? 

Who now within the council hall 

And now upon the gory field, 
Mid hissing tongue and cannon ball, 

Cling to the right, their crown and shield. 

For them the poet builds a song 

In monumental epic tiers 
That rings through ages loud and long, 

And fails not with the cycling years. 

No monument of earth or stone 

Presents to view such wondrous whole: 
They speak unto the eye alone, 

The epic trances e\'e and soul. 



12 PRO POETA. 



VIII. 

At eve we see the slanting raj's 

Speed their wild flight across the sky— 

The setting sun in spreading blaze 

Climbs cloudy summits far and nigh. 

Now slowly comes a colder wave 

Of air around us, as we mark 
In the far west, as in a grave, 

The last faint streaks of day grow dark. 

Did Homer view a grander sight 

While standing on the Grecian plain, 

Or think more beautiful to write 

Than when the sunbeams strive in vain 

To combat 'gainst the dusky host 

That twilight summons from afar: 

Though strong the towers that guard theircoast, 
Like Ilion once, they fall by war. 



PRO POET A. 13 



IX. 

Oh, love the poet, cherish not 

Those feelings that the world inspires, 
For in his lay hate is forgot, 

And coldness in his pure desires. 

Could Shakespeare but re-live on earth 

(Though once has quite sufficed to show 

The poet's love and sterling worth) 

Who would not run to hear and know ? 

Who would not kneel and kiss the hand 
That wielded such a mighty pen ? 

Thinkest thou, as stranger in the land. 
His life would pass unknown to men ? 

Learn then a lesson from that bard 

And melt the coldness that surrounds 

At least one heart by due regard 

To him whose harp for thee resounds. 



14 PRO POETA. 



X. 



But give me back my peace of mind, 

That peace I knew in childhood da3'S 

Ere I had left 3'oiing joys behind 
And entered upon sinful ways. 

When into mead and wood I strayed 
Ayid drunk the sweetness of the rose, 

And marked where light and shadow played 
Beneath the Oak and Birchen bows. 

And if forbidden, let some song 

Give echo to that dear old past — 

Some roundelay whose w^ords prolong 
It's pleasures, ah ! too sweet to last. 

Let gentle measures softly flow 

And speak the peace of childhood hours 
That ripe old age may hear and know 

How sadly sinful time deflowers. 



PRO POET A. 15 



XI. 



I linger now^ upon the beach 

Piled high with centuries of sand, 

And wish to know what weaves can teach — 
Those waves that circle ever^^ land. 

For ages the}- have swept the sea 

And dashed against resounding shores : 

For ages are they wild and free 

As an eagle when he heavenward soars. 

Go find a tongue for these wild waves 

And change their sounds to eloquence ; 

For now they are like one who raves 

In maddened crowds devoid of sense. 

Hark ! now I hear majestic roll, 

Not of the waves, but measured lines — 
They seem to catch the very soul 

Of which wave-dashings are but signs. 



16 PRO POETA. 



XII. 

Why these wild efforts to attain 
The beautiful in all, man tries ? 

Is it a longing here to gain 

The loveliness that never dies ? 



It is a longing to express 

The myriad gleams of beauty caught 
From fonts above, all men confess 

It never can be theirs unsought. 

And hence supernal beauty draws 

That daily effort of the soul 
To apprehend the final cause 

And mould its thought to perfect whole. 

So marble speaks the sculptor's mind, 

And canvas glows from passion strong; 

But nowhere does this effort find 
Such true expression as in song. 



PRO POETA. 17 



XIII. 

We have but fragments of the truth, 
Though in us lies a fierce desire . 

To grasp at all and be forsooth, 

What pride angelic would require. 

Yet, though in broken parts we deal, 
Each is a triumph of some mind, 

And "all united makes us feel 

To human lot far more resigned. 

The poet molds these thoughts anew 
And stamps them with immortal die. 

Brings mental treasures into view 

That else in dust and dark would lie. 

And it is often true that he 

Who does so much, has for return 
From human kind blank misery, 

A cheerless home, a-pauper's urn. 



18 I'RO 1»OETA. 



XIV. 

The lover on the new made grave 

Kneels pensive, now the bitter tear 

Steals down her cheek; no hand could save 
What she has held on earth most dear. 



Oh God, her breaking heart would know 
Thy mercy in this awful hour ! 

But grant a tongue to grief and show 

A kindly light through clouds that lour. 

What gentle numbers greet her ear 
As soft and soothing as the spell 

That music weaves when moonlight clear 
Sleeps on sea waves that sink and swell. 

Her suffering spirit grows more calm ; 

Some one has felt and told its woe; 
The wounded heart has found a balm, — 

Half reconciled she turns to go. 



I»KO POET A. 19 



XV. 

The steel-grey light falls on the field, 

Soon o'er the mountain climbs the sun ; 

Westward pale Shadow bears his shield; 
Life beats again — day has begun. 

But dark and dead as was the world 

Before the brightening sunbeams came 

Were life, had love not backward hurled 
Encroaching foes and put to shame. 

The poet teaches purest love. 

Not such as in the miser burns. 

Or in the breast of Caesar throve, 
Or at the whim of party turns. 

But such as rests with God alone 
And binds creation unto him — 

Such as will stay when years have flown. 
And e'en with death itself not dim. 



20 PRO POETA. 



XVI. 

The bird sings o'er me in the trees, 

Whose broad boughs mingle grateful shade: 
Tost lightly with the stirring breeze, 

The soiiiister's nest hard bv is laid. 



The song is of the summer wood 

When labors of the spring are crowned, 

And man and beast find common good, 
In ripening treasures scattered round. 

It wins the heart from wa\'s of woe 

E'en though the senseless organs cloy. 

Oh friend, thou can'st not choose but go 
And hear tlie lay and share the joy. 



I hear the answer made to me: 

Those wood-land songs are sweet and clear 
But sweeter far is wont to be 

The song of poet to mine ear. 



PRO POETA. 21 



XVII. 

A dew drop on this violet 

So bright and tiny here now shows 
The skies with stellar diamonds set, 

And all the beauty they disclose. 

A perfect mirror is its eye 

Of w^orld on world that rolls above, 
Of countless systems circling by — 

All glories ofF-spring of God's love. 

Poetic soul in miniature. 

Thus types infinitude of truth. 

Of truth that must for aye endure. 
Rejoicing in perpetual youth. 

Yes, truth that reaches far beyond 
The soundings of the vulgar mind. 

E'er for the sliallovv parts more fond. 
Unskilled to see what lies behind. 



22 



PRO POETA. 



XVIII. 



At eve the whitening vapor steals 
Along the valley, np the lawn, 

And dav-worn labor wearv feels. 

And sinks to rest till break of dawn. 

I watch the mist as SI0WI3' "'er 
The quiet vales it 'gins to rise, 

And thicken ever more and more 

'Till sight of wood and hollow dies. 

Just so oblivion might come 

Like that dank vapor o'er the lea. 

When sound of busy life is dumb 
And shroud onr works eternallv 



Were it not for poetic lay 

Uprising as the dawning sun 

To drive oblivious clouds away 

When earthly struggles will be done. 



PRO POETA. 23 



XIX. 

The greatest epics are unsung ; 

The strongest love finds not a word ; 
The noblest heart is often wrung 

With life amid a grovelling herd. 

No marvel then, that one should hear 
A poet died in some drear lane 

Forgotten by the world, — its tear 

Would stain his grave, would fall in vain. 

For should tears fall, no longer true 
To an old baseness would it be, 

Of its cold heart he felt"and knew 

Nor asks in death false sympathy. 

Yet one, who loves the good, the brave, 
Ma^' twine a wreath of flowers there. 

May kneel beside that humble grave 
And for his spirit breathe a prayer. 



24 I'KO POETA. 



XX. 

Why is it that poetic mind 

By some strange magic can endue 
Whatever it may see or find 

With fairest form and loveliest hue— 

A l)eauty breaking every where, 

Be it of rill, or tree, or bird, 
Or wood, or mead — the good and fair 

Alone are seen, alone are heard. 

His mind must teem with what it gives, 
As grain of musk with sweet perfume, 

Else in those mansions where it lives, 

The foul and fair would each find room. 



Much like the gentle spring, its touch 
Brings oui the fairer, brighter liue 

And lovelier form we prize so much, 

While shroudino;^ that from which thev i>"rew 



PRO POETA. 25 



, XXI. 

Verse makers b}' the score are found 

Whose rhyming mocks the God-like art 

Of poetr3'; this class abound 

And play a meaner, baser part 

Than worthless rock that mountain high 
Wards entrance to the gold inside, 

As rocks, forsooth, will never try 

For what their nature has denied. 

Yet jingling sounds in measure -wrought 
May sometime catch the vulgar ear; 

So their smooth w^ords divorced of thought 
Will oft as poetry appear. 

Buzz on, poor flies, soon Mother Age 
Must set tormented list'ners free — 

Then who will turn j^our musty page 
And read a graceless mimicry. 



26 PKO POETA 



XXII. 



Our speech and thought so interweave 
Whoever moulds the first will show 

What we admire, hope and believe, 

What acts from mortal agent flow. 

Yea more : he gives the soul a lyre 
More subtle than a syren's song, 

And by sweet love or fierce desire 

Its strings are wildly swept along. 

This has the poet done since time 

Saw Adam from fair Eden driven — 

Truth by him is bound fast to rhyme. 
And every mortal under heaven 

Sometime has known his thrilling lay 
And hope or love or pleasure caught ; 

And often felt quite borne away 

On swelling music of his thought. 



PRO POET A. 27 



XXIII. 

The poet does not prove : he stands 

With hidden truth quite face to face : 

A doubtful creed alone demands 

The philosophic knife and mace. 

He looks into the human heart 

And sees its inmost workings plain — 

All mysteries at once depart — 
All carping logic is in vain. 

And ever on to more and more 

He bears wrapt souls until they see 

That higher goal, that farther shore 
Where larger truth is known to be. 

Beneath the surface does he go, 

Behind the shifting mask of things 

Where firmly and immortal grow 

The changeless truths of which he sings. 



2S PRO POETA. 



XXIV. 

What mighL3' magic plays around 

In sea and land and starry dome — 

Where'er yon go is beauty found, 

A blushing glory where you roam. 

Be it beside the tinkling rill, 

Or on the snow-capped mountain height, 
Or when the blushing mornings fill 

The dim air with their ambient light, 

So, too, when evening shadows fall, 

And silvery rays steal from the moon 

On darkened nature — over all 
Is cast a beautv late or soon. 



Imprint it on thy living lines 

Oh poet, tiiat the world may know 
Tiiou read'st the great Magician's signs 

Thro' forms of matter here below. 



PRO roiiTA. 29 



XXV. 



Amid the flowers I now discern 

A humming bird in emerald coat; 

Above their pure white petals burn 
The flecks of fire upon his throat. 

Sweet songster of the flowery world, 
I hear thy charming melody 

While from its graceful knot uncurled 
Th\' curving lance probes thievishly. 

Much like the poet art thou there 
In wilderness of calm delights ; 

He glories in like sun and air 

And feeds his eve on beau tons sio'hts. 



Likewise his thrilling notes are heard 
By those who toil in field beyond, 

And listening souls are ever stirred. 

And of his presence grow more fond. 



30 PKO POETA. 



XXVI. 

The poet teaches that our soul 

Has its true home in world's unknown ; 
Where waves of boundless yearning roll, 

Where all our larger hopes have flown. 

He teaches that 'twill dwarf and pine 

When centered in gross earthly thought, 

That shadows round us here combine. 
And less than God is hardly aught. 

You take exception to his word, — 

Poor sensual man in dust enrobed ! 

You own not that which is not heard. 
You doubt what senses never probed ! 

But bear in mind our lot is cast 
Upon the shifting sands of time, 

And deathless life alone will last, 

And thought and hope and love sublime. 



PRO POET A. 31 



XXVII. 

To works that soonest will decay- 
Great nature gives a hasty birth , 

But countless ages roll away 

In formins: those of lasting- worth. 



Hence towers the mountain rock apace 
And points eternal to the sky 

While gross weeds at its rugged base 
Live with the 3^ear — as quickly die. 

So genius in poetic realm 

Hath builded up immortal song, 
That rolling years may never -whelm 

Though all else vanish as they throng. 

How can it be? In vain you ask. 

Strange Genius cannot be defined-^ 
She ever wears an inviolate mask, 

Is more than time and skill combined. 



32 PRO POETA. 



XXVIII. 

The poet's song is not required 

For those AA'^ho wallow in delights 

Of sense and vulgar gain : 'tis fired 
By nobler purpose and it fights, 

That intellect may triumph o'er 

The sensual man and leave him free, 

That knowledge growing more and more 
Alone may have sweet master}-. 

Upward to point and lead the way 

Toward renlms of wisdom and of love: 

Onward to move where growing daj' 
Reveals dim glories far above. 

Such is poetic task : — and none 

Can harmonize our love and thought 

So sweetW as the gifted one 

Whose swelling music comes unsought. 



FRO POET A. 38 



XIX. 

'Tis evening- and the storm is o'er: 

Thro' cloud-rents break the deep-blue skies 
Far eastward drives the wrack and roar: 

Slowh^ a western glory dies. 

Beneath the slow-emerging stars 

I mark the wizard lightnings play — 

Dream-like they dance on cloudy bars 
Now fading in the gloom away. 

The leaden vapors all are gone 

And purer air around me hies : 
I feel cold shadows creeping on : 

A soft wind in the tree-top sighs. 

Oh poet, 'tis an hour for thee 

To keep thy golden harp in tune, 

Like yon sweet bird that merrih^ 
Carols unto the rising moon. 



34 PRO POETA. 



XXX. 

Now at my feet the ocean rolls : 

Broad, boundless, free, its muriTiur charms. 
In every clime e'en to the poles 

Reach out its gray, embracing arms. 

Move on, thou tossing element. 

Bring sails mito the farthest shore, 

Chafe sides of many a continent, 

And grow in splendor more and more. 

As broadly as thy vast expanse. 

As deeply as thy sullen base, 
Methinks I see poetic glance 

Peer into secrets of our race. 

And mists that shroud the form of truth, 
And words that cloud the light of love, 

And all the mysteries that youth 
And age find here, below, above. 



PRO POETA. 



35 



XXXI. 

Who 'neath the threats of mati will cower, 
And drag an honest conscience down, 

And keep a creed to suit the hour 

Can never win th' immortal crown. 

High may he be in wealth or rank, 
Proud to possess an envied name. 

Yet coming ages will be frank 

And heap on him a coward's shame. 

Oh poet, if thy song would move, 

Let manly heart and purpose speak 

Thro' every line ; else none can love, 

When it is known that thou wert weak. 



In vain thy polished sentence rings, 
In vain thy voice cries out at sin. 

If all will say : 'tis thus he sings, 
But to Hvethus must _vet begin. 



36 I'RO POETA. 



XXXII. 

A brooding sorrow wraps me up 

In its dark folds ; mine eyes are dim ; 

I drank of fortune's bitter cup 

And now I feel my senses swim. 

How dark the world around me now. 
And dark the wa3'S of human life; 

Come night and scowl with sullen brow, 
Come hate and tell thy tales of strife. 

I list to pride and pomp no more, 

Earth has no bauble that can claim 

Ambition's flight— her days are o'er, 
And leave me without hope or aim. 

But sing to me thou gentle one, 

And make thy song a subtle thief: 

Oft hath the fonts of helicon 

Brought to a sorrowing soul relief. 



PRO POETA. 87 



XXXIII. 

The poet gives the rill a tongue 

To whisper as it tinkles by, 
How flowers on its green sides hung 

All beauty of the mead defy. 

Thro' him the mountain tells its years, 
How long the torrent on its side 

Wore down those massive rocky tiers 
Into the chasm gaping wide. 

Thro' him yon cloud that rides asleep 
Upon the azure sea of heaven. 

Speaks softly of those stars that peep 
Behind it at the close of even. 

Dead forms are vocal at his word. 

And mount and mead, and sea and sky. 

Speak out as if they saw and heard, 
And to our questions make reply. 



38 PRO POKTA. 



XXXIV. 

The palsied hand is weak with age, 
It trembles in its last decay ; 

Cold powers of the grave now wage 
Successful war and steal awav 



The last sad hopes of lengthening years, 
The last sweet solace of life's woe ; 

Yet with a love too deep for tears, 
Is sung a song of the long ago. 

Of the long ago when childhood chased 
The sunny hours in gladsome wood 

Around the haunts that time effaced. 
Amid the memory living wood. 

All else is gone, the fruit and flower 

Of life is plucked ?md long since dead ; 

Yet song still cheers this gloomy hour. 
When all save life itself has fled. 



ODE TO MORNING. 39 



ODE TO MORNING. 

Q( weetly the bells of the morning are ringing 
(2/ Sweetly the birds on the tree-tops are singing- 
Day hath begun. 

Over the mountain his bright banner beaming, 
Over the valley his golden light streaming, 
Comes the glad sun. 

Now in the dew-drop his image is dancing, 
Now on the wave are his swift coursers prancing, 
Bright golden beams. 

See how they furrow the east as they hasten, 
See with Avhat skill they deshadow and chasten 
Pale drowsy streams. 

Brim full of life these glide on to the ocean, 
And join in renewing to God a devotion 
Treasured above. 

Waken, oh man, from thy death-like composure. 
Waken, oh waken, and pa}- with all nature 
Thy tribute of love. 



40 WHAT WAS. 



WHAT WAS. 

As blind waves feel along a shore 
That cttrves within an ocean cave, 
So feel I for the things of yore 

Far back in time's dark vaulted grave. 

A fruitless task : one looks in vain 

Amid the ruins of the past 
For what man toiled with so much pain — 

An empty grave-yard lone and vast. 

TO-MORROW. 

How oft we speak this word, and hope to be 
Much nobler, purer, holier, than now ! 
Yet when to-morrow comes, alas we see 
No great advance : again to sin we bow. 

And jneld, the Tempter triumphs as before. 
And makes a mockery of good intent : 

'Twcre better name to-morrow nevermore. 

Than it should close with this sad truth"ill spent." 



THE PAGAN HELL. 41 



THE PAGAN HELL. 

(VIRGIL, VI BOOK ) 

Eleneas. looking back, beheld to right 

V Nealhahugeboulderprisons vast, round which 
A triple wall looms up ; encircling this, 
Tartarean Phelegeton rolls his swift waves 
Of torrent fire : against the sounding rocks 
He thunders, heaving them with crashing sounds. 
The gate on adamantine pillars hung, 
No force of man or heaven could bretik down 
Save Jove himself; so firmly is it built. 
Surmounting it an iron turret stands 
Of lofty height, on which a Fury sits, 
Tisipbone, with bloody cincture girt : 
Sleepless she guards the entrance day and night. 
Here groans are heard and strokes of cruel whips. 
And clanking chains by captives dragged around. 
Thus to the querying Trojan spoke his guide: 
The pure cannot set foot within those walls 
Where Radamanthus rules with iron hand; 
He hears the guilty story of the dammed 
And meets out punishment; confessions now 



42 THE PAGAN HELL 



Are forced from those who in the upper worlds, 
Rejoicing in an empty hope, put off 
Repentance till a sudden death dismissed 
With all their loads of crimes to Tartarus. 
Tisiphone insulting plies the scourge 
And brandishes her twirling snakes aloft. 
Then calls her sister furies : now the gate 
On creaking hinges backward flies; 3'ou see 
The kind of guardian there, a Hydra huge. 
With hundred gaping mouths, lies near on guard. 
Now Tartarus itself extends beneath the shades — 
A deep and dark abyss, in length as far 
As twice the distance from earth's central point 
To high Olympus : here the Titan youth. 
Ancient inhabitants of earth are found. 
Their monstrous bodies rolling in the deep, 
Hurled down and crushed by thunderbolts of Jove. 
Here the twin sons of Alous are seen — 
Gigantic forms. They dared to rend the heavens 
And thrust Jove out from his imperial realms, 
But failed in the attempt. Here writhes in pain 
Salmonea who strove to counterfit 



THE I 'AG AN HELL. 



43 



Jove's thunder; in a four-horse chariot, 

He drove thro' Grecian cities, torch in hfind, 

And claimed those honors which to God «re due. 

Madman, to think Heaven's livery could be feigned, 

The inimitable lightnings and the clouds 

And prancing horn-hoofed steeds that there attend; 

But the Almighty Father from dense clouds 

Makes ready his swift thunder-bolt for him, 

(Not torches, he, nor smoky light of pine) 

And whirlwind-like beats the foul wretch to earth. 

And Tytan too, earth's foster parent, hes 

In this abyss profound : nine acres scarce 

Can furnish room for him ; at length 

Is stretched his awful body ;— on it perched 

An eagle sits and with his hooked beak 

Pecks the immortal liver rich with pain. 

Digs for his food and nestles in the breast 

While the re-knitting fibers grant no peace. 

Why should T call to mind Pirithous, 

And Ixion and La pith as o'er whom 

Impending rocks hang loose : ever they seem 

To fall, ven even now : here we see spread 



44 THE PAGAN HELL. 



In royal luxury the banquet stores 

Before the very eyes of famished souls; 

Yet just beside a Fury is on guard, 

And keeps the thronging number from the feast; 

Fearful in look she chides with threatening tones. 

Here the blood-sprinkled fratricide is seen, 

And he who struck an aged parent down, 

The thieving lawyer whose sole thought had been 

To cheat his fellow-man, and he who broods 

On golden treasures, careless of the cry 

That neighboring poverty sends forth. Here wait 

The foul adulteress and the traitorous knave 

Who sold his country, turned his master's hand 

To gain forbidden wealth. Seek not to know 

Their various fortune and sharp punishment. 

Some roll a mighty rock; some tied to spokes 

Of circling wheels, forever spin around: 

Unhappy Theseus thus requits the gods. 

Had I a liuudred tongues, a hundred mouths, 

.\ voice of iron, I could not unfold 

The various kinds of crime and punishment. 



(ioLi). 45 



GOLD. 

\ J, /hat prize is that for which men strive so hard ? 
Gold ? Can it be this yellow glittering stuff, 
Another form of dust, so wins the heart, 
So steals an entrance to their every thought, 
And gives ambition wing! Yet, it is so. 
That shining grain can work a miracle. 
Nay many ; it recalls dead dreams to life, 
Touches the sick and they rejoice in health, 
Makes the blank wilderness bloom like the rose, 
And scatters many blessings far and near. 
Hence doth man prize it so. Yet gold hath wrought 
The deeds of darkness ; now it opes the cell 
And leaves the lawless free, now stays the arm 
Of outraged justice, wins the smiles of kings: 
Makes the strong tremble and the coward bold ; 
Oft stoops the pure soul from its lofty height 
To worship this vile creature of the dust. 



46 VIA RECTA. 



VIA RECTA. 

•— 1'>here is a way that seemeth to man right ; 

' Yet it doth lead to evil ; one may find 
Upon the ruffled sea of human life, 
In our own age this ancient truth confirmed. 
Now see w^e those who launch their fragile bark 
Regardless of the winds, regarding not 
The warning voice of wise experience, 
That voice which speaks so truly unto them 
But falls in vain upon their foolish ear. 
Yes, vainly falls — they tempt the angr\' waves 
With flowing- sail, go down and are no more. 
Wrecks find we all along life's trodden coast 
And wrecked by whom ? Let false opinion tell, 
And that pert judgment which young minds possess 
That fanc}' which so gaily paints our Wves 
In time to come withdrawing from the gaze, 
By shading colors, what is best to know. 



THE PAST. 47 



THE PAST. 

/"^h, let me not recall the bitter past ! 

The desert of ray life lies hidden there : 
'Tis true some flowers bloomed, yet faded fast 
And left a sandy waste, dry, cold and bare. 

Had 1 the choice, I would not live again, 

And all this human suffering undergo; ,. 

Much better in the grave than among men 

Where one must count few friends and many a foe. 

Then o'er that waste a darkening shadow cast, ; 

And let oblivion whelm it with the years 
That roll swiftly b^^ naught there should last 

Or merit human sympathy or tears. 

Unless it be some struggle for the right, 

Some sinless act done by poor sinful man — 

All else envelope in the darkest night 

And one glad heart at least will say "amen." 



48 ONLY A STAR. 



ONLY A STAR. 



o: 



,nly a star 
Shining afar 
In the blue depths of heaven ! 

Long may it shine, 

A gift divine, 
Thro' murky shades of even. 

Emblem of hope 

To those who grope 
O'er devious ways of danger: 

In blackest night, 

A diamond bright, 
To cheer and light the stranger. 

Shine on, O star, 

And near and far 
Reflect thy heavenly splendor, 

And, tho' alone 

In sapphire zone, 
Give glory to thy maker. 



ILLUSIONS. 49 



ILLUSIONS. 

Are these illusions round us here — 
The birds' sweet song, the golden morn, 
And all the glories that adorn 

Woodland and meadow far and near? 

Can it be true the budding rose 

And gray old oak, now^ decked in green, 

And snow-capped peak in grandeur seen 
Fail from the earth as melting snows ? 

Not so : with years we pass away, 

And leave the haunts of sun and shade, 

And all the beauty life has made; 

But they live on, nor know decay. 

PRAYER. 

Q( weet is thy influence, balm of wounded souls, 
CS^ Restoring angel to the fallen given, 
Whose voice the rage of passion oft controls 
And wans for troubled hearts, the peace of heaven. 



50 ENTRANCE TO HELL. 

ENTRANCE TO HELL 

(VIRGIL, VI BOOK.) 

X^ nvironed by a gloomy lake 
'—* And darksome wilderness, 
A rocky cavern deep and wide 
Leads down to Tartarus. 

.\bove no bird can wing its wa}' 

Such exhalations rise — 
The foulness from this grimy mouth 

Steams up into the skies. 

The rites performed, oblations made, 

^neas waits his guide ; 
And, lo, as morning sun returns 

How shakes the moimtain side! 

Yon woody heights are trembling now, 
And dogs thro' darkness howl — 

A goddess o'er the mountain top 
Nears to the entrance foul. 

"Grasp tight thy sword and follow me, 
Yea follow close behind ; 

Thy every power call on novv% 
Be firm in heart and mind." 



ENTRANCE TO HELL. f) ] 



"For into hell's dark depths we go 
Where mortal has not trod , " 

^neas boldly grasps his sword 
And follows at her nod. 

Obscured beneath the shades of night, 

Thro' gloomy homes of Dis 
And regions dismal, dark and drear 

In silence soon the}' pass ; 

As travellers -wandering in a wood 

Hold on over lonesome ways 
'Neath the moon's pale uncertain light 

When clouds overspread the skies. 

Now in the very jaws of hell 

They meet revengeful Care 
And wan Disease and mourning Age 

And Famine everywhere. 

They meet with Death's half brother Sleep, 

And horrid Death hard by ; 
Fraud, Force and Fear and Sorrow greet 

The strangers drawling nigh. 



52 ENTRANCE TO HELL. 



Centaurs and Hydras next appear, 
Briareus with hundred hands 

And Gorgons fierce and spectres bold — 
Chimera flaming stands. 

^neas troubled at the sight 
Unsheathes his trusty steel, 

And on the mocking phantoms round 
Now eagle-like would wheel, 

Had not the Sibyl interposed — 

She calms his rising fear 
By stating that these thronging forms 

Were but impassive air. 

Now to dark Acheron the3^ come 
Whose turbid waters pour 

A loathsome flood and bear aloft 
Unto the farther shore 

The bark of Charon brimming o'er 
With freight of human ghosts; 

That hoary boatman fier}^ eyed 
Gives passage to the hosts. 



THE MIDNIGHT HOUR. 53 

A motley crowd press ever on 

Where others late have stood, 

And from the boatman beg a chance 
To cross the Stygian flood. 

Into the boat the S\'bil went 

And ^neas in turn — 
Soon were the\^ landed on the shore 

Whence mortals ne'er return. 

THE MIDNIGHT HOUR. 

»— t~Nhe midnight hour was cold and mute 

* As I wandered thro' the wood 
Complaining of the woes of life 

To the trees that round me stood 
Awakened from their peaceful sleep, 

They cast on me a pitiful eye 
And bowed their heads and made reply : 

Poor child of earth, we know thy grief 
And ask thee in prayer to tind relief. 

If thou wilt turn to God in prayer, 
Thy troubled heart will find comfort there : 

To things of earth thou wilt turn in vain 
As they cannot lessen a spirit's pain. 



54 THF MATERIALIST. 

THE MATERIALIST. 

He stood beside the restless sea 
And watched jts wild waves mount in glee 
And break with laughing sound 
While fading from the western sky 
The glow of eve began to die 
And shadows steal around. 

Alone he stood and mused : Oh soul 
Why is it that thy fancies roll 

Like waves upon the sea, 
Now dashing 'gainst a barren hope 
Now sweeping thro' the boundless scope 

Of dark Eternity. 

Mark how^ the sun's last feeble ray 
Melts in the ether far away 

Before the deepening gloom : 
So shall thy hope that now would soar 
Where pain and death are found no more, 

Be lost within the toml). 

Then leave my poor wracked brain in peace, 
Of future pain or pleasure cease 

To din into my ears; 
Let conscience ladened with grave doubt 
And qualms untold at last find out 

Oblivion of its fears — 



THE MATERIALIST. 55 



That sweet oblivion known to those 
Who moulder careless of life's woes, 

Where gentle ivies creep, 
Forgetful of the stormy past, 
Resting their weary minds at last 

In eternal sleep. 

Why make me feel a keen remorse 
If nothing better, nothing worse 

Than this life is thy goal. 
'Tis vain that conscience points within 
To hideous spots and stains of sin — 

Vain is thy iaith, oh soul! 

Then grant this boon— oh set me free 
From toils of doubt and mystery. 

Give o'er thy trust insane. 
And all this strife will have an end 
And peace like spell of night descend 

To calm m_v troubled brain. 

What! w^ilt thou scorn my heart's request 
And never grant this wished for rest, 

But wrack me as before ? 
Go, then, and prove what thou wouldst feel 
I'll stay thee not — this glittering steel 

Will open wide the door. 



56 HOPE. 

Next morn a gastly corjise was found 
Wooed by the mocking waves that wound 

Their foam wreathes o'er its hair, 
Upon the pallid face upturned 
Awakening beams of light discerned 

An image of dispair. 

HOPE. 

How often comes a feeling of deep sadness 
That human life is vain, 
When once is summed its moments brief of gladness 
And long, long years of pain. 

Fame- tempted, high we tread on paths of glor}^ 

For earthly honors live, 
Then marvel at the pleasure transitory 

The best of these can give. 

We look without, find all things empty, hollow, 

Unworthy of our k')ve. 
And turn with joy a Heavenly guide to follow 

And hopes that end above. 



THIC NEW COLUMBIA D. 57 



THE NEW COLUMBIAD. 

BOOK I. 

/'^f him who first across the Western Main, 

^"^ Adventurous, sought in frail Hispanian bark 

The shores of Royal Ind o'er seas unknown. 

That man might sooner reach her genial clime 

And know this world of ours orbicular, 

Sing muse that oft the poet did inspire 

Grand deeds of heroes and of arms to verse, 

Now scaling heavenly heights, now venturing down 

The dark abyss in aid of epic song. 

Say how this genius bold of Genoa, 

Thro' many weary years in many lands, 

Scorned and dispised, won victory for truth 

And gained for man two other continents 

That still might feed the savage, worthless, wild, 

Had not an iron will and stern resolve, 

Combatted most by doubt and prejudice, 

Met every obstacle and overcame. 

And, thus declaring all his wondrous deeds. 

Thou mayest render justice unto him 

Whose name the western continents should bear; 

For recompense such as his acts deserve 



58 THE NEW COLUMBIAD. 



Is not here found save in immortal verse. 
That much allow America to give 
In honor of her great discoverer 
And vouchsafe aid to these adventurous lines. 
Now o'er the deep the sable wing of night 
Had cast its shadow, and midst gathering gloom 
Three barks; now westward far from the Azores 
Full many a league, held their unfaltering course. 
Upon the foremost deck, fearless and calm, 
Amidst the timid sailors gathered round 
Columbus stood, watching the silent stars 
Steal one by one from out the depths of heaven 
His pathless way to light or guide perchance. 
Bowed was his form, the silvery hand of age 
Had touched his locks and left upon his brow 
Its furrowed traces, signs of toil and care. 
Majestical in size, in lools and act, 
He bore about an air of dignity 
That challenged admiration from all men. 
And as he gazed upon the starry host 
^ Whose glittering orbs drove darkness from the deep, 
Astrologer he seemed whom destiny 
Would grant a gracious knowledge by her signs 



THE NEW COLUMBIAD. 59 

Read in the stellar lights ; 3'et far beyond 

Their brilliant course, on Him who gave them light 

And being were his thoughts, nor fiyed alone 

In idle speculation, but deep moved 

By silent prayer and conscious helplessness, 

For well he knew that dangers were ahead 

Though all w^as peaceful on the sleeping sea. 

The long unfruitful voyage gave no hope 

As yet to anxious followers ; how soon 

Their ill-restrained anger would compel 

Return to Spain could not be now divined. 

Anon he gazed upon the slackening sail 

Scarce filled by evening breeze and presently 

Boabdil caught his eye, Boabdil who 

Was chosen by impatient followers 

To seek an audience and declare their wish. 

Thinking this moment fit when all stood b\' 

To hear their captain speak, he thus began : 

"Beloved chief, thou knowest all our fears 

And hence must know the cause of our distress ; 

For nigh a fortnight have our vessels' prows 

Been pointing vainly to the Occident ; 

The sharpest ken of mariner yet finds 



60 THE NEW COLUMBIAD. 



Nor land nor sign thereof, but far and near 

Heaven's blue vault and a wide watery waste. 

And more than this : the compass ever true 

To point its needle toward the icy pole, 

Directing man when on the ocean wave 

How his craft may for any harbor steer, 

Now varies in allegiance; this is proof 

Of what tradition claims that in Atlantic seas 

Be^^ond those isles from which we late embarked 

A place is found where laws of nature cease, 

The utmost point upon this plain terrene. 

That reached, we're doomed to fallfrom off the earth 

Into that aljyss spoken of by seers 

Where Hydra forms and monsters horrible 

Howl nightly through deep shade, where light and 

peace 
Are strangers, home of fiends and gorgons dread. 
At thought oi such a fate our blood runs cold. 
Oh captain, change th}' purpose, we beseech. 
Tempt not too far the mercy of J^ind heaven 
That has already a sure sign vouchsafed 
Of danger imminent ; let us give o'er 
This mad pursuit and homeward turn our sail." 



THE NEW COLUMBIAI). 61 

He ended ; to his speech Columbus thus : 

"Beloved Boabdil and companions dear, 

Your fears are known to me nor think that I 

Have lost compassion in my stern resolve 

Of finding western path to Indian lands. 

Well have I weighed the dangers of the course, 

Attempting what was ne'er conceived before. 

Long ere I launched upon Atlantic seas, 

Or had secured from Isabella ships, 

Or from her royal consort, Ferdinand, 

Commission to explore what may lie hid 

In Western hemisphere, I then foresaw 

That difiiculty greater would be found 

In quelling false alarms or prejudice 

Than ills those daring manners must bear 

Who venture far upon the Western seas. 

Just one of many instances to cite: 

When I approached the king of Portugal 

And to his royal councillors made known 

This plan of exploration, forthwith they : 

'We cannot favor this, your rash design. 

Since it of sense or judgment savors nought.' 

'Know thou,' they said, 'o'erarching skies will fall, 



62 THE NEW COLUMBIAD. 

Crushing to death that daring mariner 

Who ventures close to the forbidden spot 

Where they with earth's extremist rim conjoin. 

We counsel thee to harbor saner thought 

And chide back reason to her native seat.' 

With these insulting words did they express 

What we have proven a lie; the sky above 

Rests not upon the earth or long ere this 

We would hcive reached that point fatal esteemed ; 

Its arch deceptive to the sight alone, 

Betokens of this world sphericity ; 

Hence as we farther sail it e'er recedes 

Like miraged oases in desert lands 

Before the eager gaze of wanderers. 

So then we might continue till the shore 

Whence we have come, return unto our gaze. 

And now the present matter to explain : 

Tis true the compass fails, yet why alarm ? 

Had wt assurance beyond all doubt 

That on all seas in every latitude 

Invariably true it would remain ? 

And surely other portents would appear 

Did nature mean a surcease of her works ; 



THE NKW COLUMBIAD. 63 



Yet there are none ; the golden sunlight falls 
As it is wont from the great globe beyond 
Whose office is to cheer the earth with day; 
Morn bright and rosy as the primal beams 
E'er made, and 'customed eve succeeds. 
Take courage, then, companions of my lot, 
Fear not while there is yet no cause of fear. 
What would they say in Spain did we return ? 
Forgetful of all else, victims of dread, 
Yielding to cowardice, ignoble end 
To what may prove the grandest enterprize 
E'er dreamed by mariner should w^e but on, 
Regardless of misgivings timorous. 
Kind Isabella, she whose wealth has manned 
And fitted out these venturous barks of ours, 
What condemnation would she not pronounce 
On dastard act of turning now our sail! 
No, we will never undergo the shame 
Such base intent would bring, rather should we 
Suffer our lifeless bodies wafted to the strand 
Of far off Palos shipwrecked to be seen. 
Than be tame victims to this coward fear. 
But see! the moon's disk o'er the water's edge 



64 THE NEW COLUMBIAD. 

Peers out trittmphant, marking the i)ale dawn 
Of the nocturnal day ; and as her silver veil 
Hangs tremulous on the ocean's ruffled brow 
Robbing the darkness of his ugl\' mien; 
So may those holy offices that now 
Are ushered b}^ the joyful vesper bell 
Recall our wandering courage, make us brave 
And cheer with hope our darkened, devious path." 
Thus kindly spoke their ca])tain and his words 
Finding an easy entrance to their hearts 
Soothed many a troubled mind ; descend they now 
To evening praver, and o'er the waters far, 
The choired voice in wavy volume floats, 
Hymning to God the praise from mortals due. 



